


float away and fly up to the surface

by pickledbrows



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Canon Compliant, Cock Warming, Dom/sub Undertones, Foot Fetish, Foot Massage, Hand Jobs, Human Furniture, M/M, Spoilers, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 02:15:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8949832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickledbrows/pseuds/pickledbrows
Summary: Viktor is sure about a lot of things in life. Some things he's not so sure about. But, for certain, nothing has ever felt quite as good as being pampered by Yuuri Katsuki.





	

**Author's Note:**

> How about that last episode? I've been mulling over this fic for several days but didn't want to write it until I'd seen episode 12. 
> 
> I haven't written D/s in a while but this is how I imagine it'd be between these two? I can't imagine hard BDSM, but I feel like Viktor would love to be taken care of by Yuuri. That whole "I strangled myself with my own career" mentality of his had me thinking that he probably tends to trap himself all the time. And maybe expects Yuuri to choke him too, literally and figuratively. Except Yuuri isn't like that and Viktor learns this.
> 
> He's an interestingly complex dude, that Nikiforov fella.
> 
> Anyway, please read, drop some kudos and a comment, and most of all, enjoy!

* * *

 

Viktor isn’t sure he can survive the heat of July. It’s not so much the sun that kills him, though the strong rays leave reddened patches along his exposed arms, but the humidity is another beast altogether. The moment he steps outside in the morning, he’s already engulfed in a wet hug, and he finds himself running off to the ice rink to keep cool and dry even on Yuuri’s holidays.

Today is one of those days, except Yuuri has decided to accompany him since his parents aren’t allowing any air conditioner in the private rooms to run to save on electricity. They hadn’t brought any gear to ensure that Yuuri did have at least one day in the week completely off the ice and chose to sit side-by-side on one of the benches, their gazes settling on the ice.

“Sorry about my parents,” Yuuri repeats for the third time since they’d left the inn, “They want to keep things authentic but I don’t think heat stroke should be part of it.”

Viktor laughs and bumps shoulders with him, smiling when Yuuri hesitantly returns the gesture.

“It’s okay. It’s part of the experience,” he reassures and leans part of his weight against Yuuri, wincing when he puts pressure on a particularly bad sunburn.

Yuuri glances at him, worried, but Viktor tries to wave him off.

“Maybe we should put more cream on your burns,” Yuuri says, “Have you been using the sunscreen I bought?”

“It doesn’t matter. I sometimes burn even with the spring sun. My skin is weak,” Viktor replies and carefully rolls up his sleeve to show Yuuri that the burn isn’t so bad, “Look, it’s starting to peel already.”

Yuuri trails his cool fingertips lightly over the least reddened part and Viktor visibly shivers. Yuuri pauses, glances up at him with more worry, and Viktor tugs down his sleeve. It’s not the first time Yuuri’s simplest touch has left him shaking.

“How about we go down to the beach? The breeze is nice,” Yuuri suggests, “Yuko can lend you an umbrella for the sun.”

Viktor chuckles because he’s never used a parasol before and he never imagined he’d have to someday. Life sure has changed since he started living with Yuuri.

“It’s okay. I’ll just wear my sweater outside. It’s light enough and if I sweat buckets, it’s better than burning.”

They don’t stand up immediately, so Viktor takes Yuuri’s hand in his and smiles at the flush on the other’s cheeks. They’re somewhat on the same page as far as their relationship goes, but Yuuri has his bashful moments, even in privacy like this. Viktor wants to roll up his sleeve again and feel the caress of Yuuri’s smooth skin, but he’s not sure Yuuri is ready for that level of intimacy, as innocent as it is.

An idea comes to him.

“Do you have the cream with you? Maybe I could use a little more before going outside. This sweater isn’t made to block UV,” Viktor says and Yuuri pulls his hand away so he can fish around in the small pack at his feet. He hands the tube of aloe vera gel to Viktor, who shakes his head and holds out his arm.

He likes when Yuuri takes care of him.

After squeezing out some of the clear gel, Yuuri wraps his fingers around Viktor’s wrist and lightly applies the salve to the pinkest area with his other hand. The cream is cooler than the air of the rink but it’s not the temperature that has Viktor’s skin prickling. His eyes focus on the contrast of tanned skin with his own, on the rosiness beneath Yuuri’s nails, on the wrinkles of each knuckle.

When Yuuri is finished, Viktor leaves his sleeve up to allow the moisture to dry, and he protests when Yuuri begins capping the tube.

“What?” Yuuri asks and sighs when Viktor pushes up his other sleeve.

“Please?”

He doesn’t have to beg. Yuuri will do it.

Viktor can feel his pulse quicken as his breathing falls in rhythm with the up and down motion of Yuuri’s fingers. Over and over. His movements are faster this time, spreading the gel efficiently and in a timely manner, and Viktor can only stare longingly at the tube when the cap is twisted shut.

“Let’s go?” Yuuri asks as he puts the tube back in his pack before shouldering it.

Viktor feels his body settle, as if he’s been placed softly onto the bench after hovering above it the last few minutes, and he nods before standing and stretching his arms above his head.

There’s nothing quite like having Yuuri’s care. 

* * *

For two months, it goes like this.

Viktor will ask Yuuri to scrub his back in the bath because he’d seen it done on television. He’ll open his mouth to get fed, saying he drank too much and can’t keep his arm steady. When they go out to eat, he’ll have Yuuri order for him with the excuse that he doesn’t know the proper Japanese. Sometimes he’ll crawl into bed with Yuuri in the early morning and whine that Makkachin gets more affection than him, which prompts Yuuri to run his fingers through his hair.

Nothing has ever felt quite as good as being pampered by Yuuri.

After the Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu Championship, they spend several weeks in Hasetsu preparing for the Cup of China. Something about Yuuri’s accomplishment with his free skating program has Viktor deciding it’s all right to push a little farther in their relationship. They’ve spent several nights together in the same bed, have touched one another beneath their clothes, and recently their mouths have gone where their fingers have, though Yuuri is still hesitant to let Viktor take it too far.

For some reason, Yuuri doesn’t mind being the one down there, and Viktor secretly relishes the sensation of being taken care of in such an intimate manner by his lover. Yuuri is easy to teach and loves to please, which makes for a great combination in bed.

When they’re back at the inn and the celebratory dinner with the family and the Nishigoris is finished, Viktor pulls Yuuri into the public bathroom for a quick shower.

“I’m a bit tired so no hot spring tonight,” he says, which surprises Yuuri because Viktor has never said no to a dip in the outdoor bath.

It’s the furthest thing from his mind because another idea has come to him.

Viktor can’t keep his eyes off Yuuri. It’s late at night and nobody else is using the bath, and Viktor dares to scoot his stool just a little closer so he can brush their knees together. When he’s given a bashful glance, he grins and turns his back to Yuuri, peeking over his shoulder through wet bangs, waiting. With a sigh, Yuuri begins running soapy hands against Viktor’s back, fingers trailing up and down, nails barely scratching at the surface. Over and over he traces the smallest of circles into the suds.

“You’re so gentle,” Viktor says, eyes closed in contentment, “It’s ticklish."

Yuuri applies pressure and Viktor moans under his breath. He wiggles and leans back into the touch, body relaxing with the massage.

“Feels nice,” he murmurs and shifts his stool back even more until Yuuri’s knees are pressing on either side of his ribs.

“Viktor?”

He doesn’t respond, simply scoots further until his back is flush to Yuuri’s chest.

“Viktor! We can’t do this here,” Yuuri whispers anxiously into his ear. His breath cools the moisture on the lobe and Viktor trembles.

“It’s just us,” Viktor says and takes Yuuri’s arms, wrapping them around his waist. He leans his head back until it hits Yuuri’s shoulder, and it’s awkward since he’s taller, but he doesn’t mind the arch in his back, not when he can feel Yuuri right there. He gives his hips a shake and Yuuri tries to pull back, almost falling off his seat.

“You’re getting hard,” Viktor whispers and turns his head to press his lips to Yuuri’s jaw. It’s a bit of a stretch in his neck and back, but somehow it feels good to be like this in his lover’s arms. As he licks the water from Yuuri’s skin, he trails the other’s hand down between his legs, spreading his thighs further so he’s fully exposed to the cooling air of the shower room.

“Viktor!”

Yuuri’s muscles become steel as he freezes and tries to pull away, but Viktor is just as strong as him and keeps his hand where it is.

“Viktor!”

“Yuuri,” he croons and nuzzles the other’s cheek with his nose, “Touch me.”

There are some things they haven’t done yet as a couple and feeling each other up in the bath is one of them. Viktor has brushed his hands against Yuuri’s thighs in the outdoor bath, but they’ve never been pressed to each other like this, naked bodies visible to anyone who might walk in. It’s a thrill Viktor has only dreamt of and he’s not going to let the opportunity pass.

He sighs into Yuuri’s ear when he feels cool, slick fingers wrap hesitantly around his soft member. He whispers Yuuri’s name when he begins to stroke, and he laces the fingers of his hand together with Yuuri’s free one, squeezing the slippery digits tightly with his trembling own.

Viktor’s head lolls back and forth on Yuuri’s shoulder, almost slipping off completely but he manages to catch himself. For a moment, as Yuuri is squeezing and rubbing and petting, Viktor feels like he’s left his body and is floating in the steam. His eyes see nothing and his body only feels what Yuuri gives. It’s enough for him.

He sighs and moans and Yuuri kisses him quiet, their tongues lazily caressing as the coiling in the pit of Viktor’s groin tightens. Tighter and tighter as Yuuri speeds up until the spring inside Viktor snaps. Yuuri swallows his gasp as his thighs clamp shut around Yuuri’s hand and his groan is loud and long as his come overflows onto Yuuri’s fingers.

He babbles in Russian as he always does and lies limp against Yuuri, shakily winding the younger man’s arm around his waist again. It doesn’t take long to breathe evenly again and when his heartbeat is normal, he pushes himself up, neck aching from the awkward angle it had been forced into for too long. He doesn’t want to stretch it out, doesn’t want to come down from the steam just yet.

Viktor turns around and kisses Yuuri on the lips before he shoves his bath stool to the side and gets on his knees.

“Viktor, we really can’t do this,” Yuuri hisses and he moans when Viktor lowers his head and reciprocates with his mouth.

* * *

 A week before they leave for Beijing, Viktor upsets Yuuri for the first time.

They’re in his room, on his bed, one lamp on and the door shut. Yuuri’s head is tucked beneath his chin, their fingers trailing lightly over each other’s naked, sweaty skin, and an idea hits Viktor hard when Yuuri scratches a little too hard at his hip.

“Sorry,” Yuuri whispers and gently rubs the spot. Viktor swallows as he feels the familiar tingle between his legs.

“Again.”

Yuuri shifts, hums in question, and when Viktor says it louder he lifts his head and looks him in the eye.

“What?”

Viktor scratches lightly at his arm, a caress more than an injury, and glances down between their sticky bodies.

“Can you do it again?” he asks, heartrate increasing at the risk of what he’s asking, “Scratch.”

He positions Yuuri’s hand on the inside of his thigh, so close to where his body is reacting to his building arousal, and when Yuuri digs a nail into the fleshiest part, he gasps. His eyes shut, his hair shifts as he turns his head, and he begs.

“Viktor, this…”

“Please.”

Yuuri does as requested and Viktor bites his lip. He rests his palms on the sheets, fingers gripping at the fabric, and he yelps when Yuuri scrapes a nail a little too deep.

“Sorry!”

Viktor peeks his eyes open and smiles because there is nothing to be sorry about. However, Yuuri is giving him that anxious look again, coupled with something new.

“I like it,” Viktor whispers, catching Yuuri’s gaze with his blue.

Instead of continuing though, Yuuri simply looks somewhere beside Viktor’s arm and idly strokes the skin of his leg with the tips of his nails. Over and over. It’s softer than feathers and has Viktor trembling. He’s not sure if he likes the gentleness as much as the prickle.

“I don’t,” Yuuri challenges, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Hurt me.

Viktor wants to say it but Yuuri is biting his own lip and his hand has stopped moving. He’s not happy. Viktor hides the urge to ask for more. He doesn’t deserve it yet.

“It doesn’t feel so bad,” Viktor tries instead.

Yuuri shoots him another mysterious look. Confusion and disbelief. Viktor can’t find a word for it right now. He lifts a hand up to cup Yuuri’s cheek, offering reassurance.

“I prefer this,” Yuuri says and he’s trailing his hand up and down Viktor’s thigh again, except those feathery nails are moving down to his knee, up to his hip, passing between his legs, over the flecks of dried come, into his belly button.

Viktor sighs at the sensation of being explored and his hand falls back to the bedsheet, gripping tight when Yuuri’s hands breathe bumps into his skin. Yuuri shifts to sit up but Viktor keeps his eyes closed, simply lying as still as he can and exhaling shakily when his nipples are traced, the tips flicked, his ribs tickled, his arms grazed.

He wants Yuuri to go back and touch the stiff points on his chest, asks for it, but Yuuri refuses and continues the torturous caress. Viktor keeps his hands tangled in the sheets and his cock is rock hard when Yuuri’s fingers massage the junction between his neck and jaw.

Choke me. 

Yuuri wouldn’t so Viktor doesn’t ask, only gives pitiful, frustrated groans when Yuuri only uses delicate, loving touches to bring him off. He never thought he’d leak from something so soft and tender. He’s amazed when he comes immediately the second Yuuri finally brushes his knuckles right between his legs.

* * *

Viktor is more than proud of Yuuri attempting his signature move. He kisses him several more times when the cameras are off them and he can’t keep from locking an arm around him, keeping him close. He wants to go back to the hotel room, whispers to Yuuri that he wants to do something nice for him, but Yuuri tells him repeatedly that there are important things that must be done. They only go back so he can quickly shower and change into something more formal than his sports jersey, and Yuuri makes Viktor wait in the lobby.

It’s torture.

Interviews, picture taking, dinners. Viktor has done them all a hundred times before but for some reason he can’t see them as a priority. Not when his Yuuri has been able to achieve so much and Viktor wants nothing more than to sing his praises in private.

“Viktor.”

The sternness in Yuuri’s voice has Viktor pausing and then apologizing, which surprises them both because he’s never sorry about what he says or does. Except for earlier today, but Yuuri already forgave him without the need for a verbal apology.

Yuuri reaches up to brush the bangs from his face, smiling, and Viktor feels forgiven yet again. Twice in one day. Yuuri is just that amazing.

After suffering through an endless amount of small talk, photography flashes, and seafood that Viktor couldn’t say no to, they finally retire to their cramped hotel room. Viktor removes his coat and suit jacket and takes both of Yuuri’s as well, hanging them all on a peg beside the door. He watches as Yuuri unbuttons his shirt and reaches out to help him, a smile tugging at his lips when Yuuri gives one of his long-suffering sighs.

“You don’t need to baby me all the time,” he says and Viktor grins because he feels like Yuuri is the one always babying him.

“I just want to pamper my student. You did win silver after all,” Viktor says and glances at the medal Yuuri left on the bedside table.

“Just silver,” Yuuri says, defeated, and Viktor shushes him before pulling his tie loose and sliding his shirt down his arms. He balls it up and tosses it into a corner, intending to deal with it in the morning before they leave for the airport. He adds his own shirt and tie to the pile, and when he moves his hands to unbuckle his belt, Yuuri stops him and does him the favor.

“Go wash up,” Yuuri tells him.

Viktor is completely naked when his bare feet meet the cool tile of the bathroom floor. The shower he takes is quick and when he’s stepping out of the steamy room in a bathrobe, toweling the moisture from his hair, he’s greeted by Yuuri dressed only in boxers, the television on with the volume low. Yuuri doesn’t offer even a glance, simply switches to another station, and Viktor walks over to sit beside him, draping the towel around his shoulders.

“Can I reward you now?” he asks, keeping the begging away.

“I’m kind of tired. My legs hurt,” Yuuri says and Viktor doesn’t miss the trembling in his voice. Yuuri is asking without a question and Viktor knows him well enough by now.

He drops the towel onto the floor and kneels on it before taking Yuuri’s right foot in his hands. Slowly and with slight pressure, he begins to massage the bottom, thumbs digging in from toes to heel. Soon, all ten of his fingers are squeezing up Yuuri’s calf before gliding back down, and he uses his knuckles to add more centralized pressure.

“Good?” he asks and Yuuri nods, eyes glued to the television.

When Viktor brings Yuuri’s foot up to his lips and kisses the top, he receives a nudge and only that. He slips the smallest toe between his teeth, nibbling softly on it.

“Let me wash my feet if you plan on doing this again,” Yuuri says, embarrassment leaking into his words. He finally looks at Viktor as he tries to pull away but Viktor won’t let go. Instead, he sniffs delicately at the skin before running his tongue along the tops of each bump of bone. Over and over.

“They’re clean,” he says and Yuuri sighs when Viktor wraps his lips around his big toe, sucking softly on it.

Viktor laves above, below, and between each stub, nursing on the tips and planting kisses to each bruised nail. He doesn’t notice any fresh cuts, only fading bruises, but he makes sure to cover the entire surface with the gentlest of pecks and nibbles. The voices from the television grow muffled behind him as his mind grows fuzzy. His eyelids lower and he sees nothing except the warmth of Yuuri’s flesh against his tongue.

His head is pushed down and he awakens, glancing up into Yuuri’s eyes. There’s something questioning in his gaze as he moves the heel of his left foot from the top of Viktor’s head to his shoulder, and Viktor shivers when the bathrobe is pushed to the side. He bows his head and releases Yuuri’s foot, reaching down to untie the loosely tied sash from his waist, and his body gives a shake when the cool air touches his naked skin once the garment completely slips away.

Yuuri is kind enough to let it pool right there on the floor. Viktor positions his hands atop the fluffy material, thankful that his palms and knees can be cushioned, and he straightens his back and bows his head when Yuuri’s feet turn and guide him into the proper position. 

He can’t hear the television anymore, only the slide of Yuuri’s feet over the supple skin of his back, and his spine soaks up the heat he feels from the bottoms, the warmth spreading into his hazy vision. He shuts his eyes.

* * *

Makkachin whimpers and nudges his thigh with the tip of his moist nose. Viktor’s eyes are focused on floating specks of dust in the lamplight, but he settles a hand atop the head of his dearest friend. He offers a gentle ruffle and Makkachin licks his face.

“I miss him,” he breathes and wraps both arms around his beloved pet’s neck.

His phone buzzes and he takes it from his pocket, glancing at the message from Yuuri.

/Boarding soon. Hope Makkachin is okay./

Soon. Soon. He’ll be at the airport in Fukuoka and Viktor will be there to see him. He’ll run all the way there if it’s necessary. He needs to be the first thing Yuuri sees.

Viktor tosses his phone behind him onto his bed and leans his head back against the mattress, eyes closing. Makkachin whines again and Viktor pets him, the soft curls of his coat soothing his anxiety. He feels drained from being swept along by the rush of emotions and events of the last twenty-four hours. He knows he should sleep but he can’t, not yet, not until he sees Yuuri.

Soon.

His phone buzzes again and he searches for it with his arm twisted awkwardly above and behind his head. When he has it in his hands again, he reads the message Yuuri has sent. He reads it over and over until his eyes are hurting from fighting back frustrated tears.

/I love you./

Viktor responds with the same sentiment and stares at the chat box until another message pops up.

/Boarding now. See you soon, Vitya/

Vitya.

Yuuri recently started calling him that in private and Viktor is trembling as his eyes scan over the words, targeting his name. He’d do anything to hear it from Yuuri’s mouth. He dials Yuuri’s number. Quickly. Please.

“Viktor? I’m about to get on—”

“I miss you. I miss you, miss you, Yuuri.”

There are murmuring voices from behind Yuuri but Viktor only focuses on the slightest hint of his breaths.

“Vitya.”

Yes.

“I’ll see you soon, okay? Just get some sleep.”

Yes. Yuuri. Yes.

“Okay, Vitya?" 

Yes.

* * *

A week before they leave for Barcelona, Viktor upsets Yuuri.

They’re lying in Yuuri’s bed this time, cramped but content, and Viktor is halfway atop Yuuri, his head tucked beneath Yuuri’s chin. His hands are buried beneath the pillow under Yuuri’s head and he’s staring at a bead of sweat that had dripped from his bangs onto Yuuri’s skin. He moves forward to lap it up and Yuuri exhales into his hair.

“You’re heavy,” Yuuri says and frees one leg out from beneath both of Viktor’s. Viktor simply wraps his limbs around it again and Yuuri laughs.

“I can’t wait to see gold hanging here,” Viktor murmurs against his heartbeat. He shifts so he can attack Yuuri’s neck with kisses.

“I’m so nervous,” Yuuri rumbles beneath Viktor’s ear once it’s pressed again to his cooling skin.

“No need. You’ll be perfect,” he reassures.

They grow quiet and Viktor wonders if Yuuri is asleep. He sits up, glances down at his half-lidded, tired eyes, and straddles Yuuri’s waist.

“Again?” Yuuri whispers and Viktor shakes his head. No, not again. He’s a bit sore really and would rather try something different while his body recovers from its earlier stretch. It’s not that Yuuri is so big, but he is quite eager, and Viktor isn’t used to this level of determined enthusiasm.

He takes Yuuri’s hands in his and brings them both to his lips, kissing each knuckle, each nail, each crease. Over and over. Yuuri chastises him when he sucks on the fingers that had been used to prepare him, but Viktor hardly cares about that. He loves tasting himself on Yuuri’s skin.

As he nibbles on the fleshy side of one hand, he places the other to his throat, wrapping the damp fingers around his neck. He swallows against the light grip and urges Yuuri to squeeze.

“Viktor?”

Viktor presses the heated palm harder against his pulse, his vision blurring and his breath deep in his lungs, out through his lips, past the quivering fingers he’d left between his teeth.

Yuuri is saying his name again and Viktor positions both hands to his neck this time, pressing them tight around his throat. Yuuri pulls away.

“No!”

He’s sitting up and Viktor catches himself from falling backwards. He’s awake again and feeling cold without the warmth of Yuuri beneath him, around him.

“I won’t do that. You know I hate hurting you.”

Yuuri is shaking, angry and disappointed, and Viktor tries to take his hands to reassure him but he’s pulling away again. He doesn’t trust him and it hurts.

“I won’t do it.”

“Yuuri.”

“No.”

Viktor feels like something is swimming inside his head and he shakes it from side-to-side, trying to get the swarming thing out. His eyes are focused even though they’re burning from the inside and around the edges. Burning and growing damp.

He buries his face against Yuuri’s hair when the other man wraps him up in a tight hug. They sit like that, naked and growing cold and their hearts beating unsteadily, out of rhythm. Viktor breathes deeply and reaches again for Yuuri’s hands. Their fingers lace. His palms are sweaty. His grip tightens. 

* * *

The ring on his finger doesn’t feel like anything.

He stares at it in the dimness of the room, the city lights from the window guiding his gaze, and he glances over at Yuuri. His sleeping, beautiful fiancé.

Viktor kisses the golden band before reaching between the gap of their beds and taking Yuuri’s hand in his. He squeezes it gently and somehow, it’s enough to wake up the other man. Yuuri shifts and hums in question, his fingers brush against Viktor’s as he moves a little closer.

“What is it?” he murmurs in a sleep-scratchy voice.

“I love you.”

Viktor doesn’t hesitate to say it and Yuuri doesn’t pause to return the sentiment. Viktor crawls onto his bed, crushing their bodies together, and he kisses Yuuri’s ring. Over and over.

“Are you tired?” he quietly asks and Yuuri’s hand moves up to brush back his hair before tugging their mouths together.

Their tongues slip past teeth and lips, tasting, measuring. Viktor tugs Yuuri closer and closer until Yuuri has to crawl atop him, has to rest his weight in the center of him. Viktor wraps his arms around Yuuri, slides his hands beneath his shirt, and when Yuuri whispers his name he immediately drops his arms to the mattress and shuts his eyes. He lets Yuuri take him.

He lifts his hips so Yuuri can slide off his underwear, the only garment he wore to bed tonight, and he keeps his legs spread so Yuuri can rest between them. His knees are bent, pointing to the ceiling, and his breaths come soft until Yuuri silences them by slipping a finger between his lips. Viktor licks the saltiness off his skin and groans when a second finger joins the first.

Yuuri is gentle when he slides the pads of his fingers against Viktor’s tongue. Viktor relaxes his throat, breathes evenly, his body growing limp as his mind grows cloudy. He raises both hands to the pillow beneath his head and grips it tightly, showing Yuuri where he is, how far it’ll take for him to get to where he needs to be.

Slowly, tenderly, Yuuri caresses his tongue and Viktor studies the bends and creases of his fingers with his taste buds. He sighs when the furthest part of his tongue is tickled and grips one hand into a tight fist, the bite of his fingernails into his palm throwing off the urge to gag. Yuuri removes the digits and Viktor inhales deeply, moaning when they return with a third joining in.

It’s becoming a stretch because Yuuri isn’t bunching them together. Instead, they’re side-by-side and widen when Yuuri scissors them apart between his gums. Viktor struggles to breathe around them and when they slide past his molars, he coughs. It’s wet and saliva is trailing past his lips, but Yuuri takes care of it, wipes it up and places it back in with a fourth digit, the smallest.

Viktor’s eyes are open and he’s staring at a faint streak of light on the ceiling of their shared room. His chest rises and falls and his legs spread apart. He feels his throat relax as Yuuri pushes him further. The ache in his jaw has numbed and his mind is so clear he’s floating again.

“Vitya."

He gasps, inhales deeply when Yuuri removes the hold on him. He turns his head to the side and coughs, tears dripping onto the pillow as Yuuri plants a firm kiss right beside his ear. Whispers his name again. Over and over.

Viktor comes to in Yuuri’s gentle embrace. They’re cuddled beneath the blanket, Yuuri’s shoulder his pillow, and his arms are limp with one buried beneath the other’s body. He leaves it where it is because nothing grounds him quite like being crushed beneath Yuuri. Slowly, so as not to wake the other man who’d fallen asleep, he tangles their legs together and lets his eyes slide shut. The arm caught underneath Yuuri twitches as he traces the underside of the ring wrapped around his finger with the pad of his thumb.

* * *

 It’s perfection.

Yuuri sits with his back to the wall, arms around Viktor’s waist, breath hot against the bones of Viktor’s spine. The mattress creaks when Yuuri shifts beneath him to move his legs and stretch them out, causing him to move inside Viktor and stretch him further.

It feels perfect.

Viktor squirms and presses his hips down, grinding and tightening until Yuuri’s panting against his shoulder blade. They’ve never done this before and nothing has been able to keep hold of Viktor so solidly. It’s simple and he wonders if they can do this every night. He feels secure here on Yuuri’s lap with Yuuri holding him, his thick cock soft yet stretching Viktor wide, urging him to clench over and over so he won’t stay open like this permanently.

Viktor wants that. For Yuuri, he’ll be this open, this willing, this warm. Always. He’ll hold him just like this while Yuuri holds him just like this.

He shakes his hips and grins when Yuuri bites at the skin of his arm. He takes Yuuri’s hands in his own, brings one down to rest on his lap and the other to settle against the cold metal sitting against his chest. Yuuri made him wear the medal tonight, wanted him to know the nostalgic feeling of silver, and Viktor wishes he could wear it forever, this prize they’d won together, that Yuuri won for him. For them. For himself.

“You’re so warm,” Yuuri says, cheek resting against Viktor’s spine. He presses the softest, most tender of kisses to Viktor’s flesh, then he bites at a mark he’d left earlier and Viktor shuts his eyes to the sting.

“You’re warmer,” he replies and wiggles again. Yuuri sinks his teeth in deeper and keeps them there, embedded. Viktor wonders what it would feel like to have more of Yuuri inside of him, stuck, heated, safe. He imagines what it would feel like to have all of Yuuri tucked away into his core.

He brings Yuuri’s right hand up to his mouth, kisses the rings on both their fingers, and then rests his full weight back, knowing he’ll be supported. His head rests a little above Yuuri’s and he rocks it slowly, hypnotically from side-to-side.

“Let’s stay like this,” he whispers.

Yuuri squeezes his hand in answer and says his name the way only he can.

Viktor sighs and stares at a corner of the room barely touched by the dim light of the bedside lamp. He feels the flutter of rising, feels his body relaxing more until he’s certain Yuuri is trapped inside him and he in Yuuri’s embrace. They’re melting and in that cozy space inside his head he knows nothing but the warmth of breath, of a familiar beating heart, of a tight emptiness filled by Yuuri. He drifts with the floating dust particles in the air, with the inhale and exhale of Yuuri’s lungs. There’s a slight pull around his neck when Yuuri releases his hand to tug at the silver medal, and the gravity of their achievement, of Yuuri’s gift, gives Viktor comfort as he lets go.

He’s never felt so grounded.


End file.
